


New beginnings

by Pufosenie23



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because I love my boys, But John comforts him, Fluff, His best, I Had To, In my mind anyway, John Is a Good Boyfriend, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post The Reichenbach Fall, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, Sherlock is an andorable idiot when it comes to feelings, Sherlock is sad, after he gets his shit together, but he tries, happiness in the end, hug my poor baby sherlock, i had this in my mind, the author hates sad endings, they deserve their happy ending, this is one possible outcome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:53:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23426539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pufosenie23/pseuds/Pufosenie23
Summary: Sherlock came back from the death after 1 year only for John to tell him to stay away from him. Sherlock isn't comping well with that. He has to see John. Even if it means breaking into John's new flat in the middle of the night. John is concerned and realizes he was an idiot. Angst and fluff ensue.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	New beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is angst. i'm sorry everyone. Buuuuuut things will get better I promise.

This wasn’t a good idea. 

It was in fact a horrible idea and Sherlock should have known better.

Apparently he didn’t.

Even so, he wasn’t going to give up, not now when he was so close. 

He tightened his grip on his silk dressing gown, attempting to impregnate the residual warmth of it in onto his own body, shivering in the cold air of winter and attempting to ignore it. Maybe it would have been wise to, at least, put on his Belstaff before going out into the night in his pyjamas. Although he had been rather distracted at that particular point in time. Distracted by the gory images created by his own mind specially to torture him in the darkness of the night, when his defenses were no longer up and strong. Images of John hurt, John whipped, John bleeding, John cut and dying on the floor screaming for help, for Sherlock to come, to do something to help him, to save him, John John John-- Stop it! 

Sherlock shook his head and forced his half frozen bare feet to continue to do what they had been designed to do and keep him moving dammit! He wondered briefly how long it was until he would get frostbite… if he already did… His body felt rather numb, but he no longer cared. His chest, his heart felt like they had been set on fire, and then stabbed repeatedly with a sharp knife. Every breath was pure torture. It reminded Sherlock of that time he had supported a punctured lung. He felt the same intense, sharp pain every time he inhaled and exhaled, his head dizzy, spinning like he was running low on oxygen. His head was pounding and his mind kept repeating a single word over and over again, seemingly ignorant of how much pain it actually produced. John!

The feeling of something harder than the snow he had gotten used to met his feet and Sherlock raised his head. He stopped dead in his tracks, releasing a shaky, foggy breath. He was here. 

The resentful sight met his eyes and he felt another quick stab in his heart. He hated the place. He loathed it! John’s new flat. So far from 221B Baker Street. So far from Sherlock…so far from home. He entered, climbing the stairs to John’s flat as quietly as possible, while actively ignoring how bad his shivering had gotten and the alarming shade of bright red his bare feet had taken. Sherlock didn’t even understand what was so great about the building anyway. It was average at best, old, surely with a lot of creaky bits and rats( okay maybe he was exaggerating here) and a general look of years of neglecting.  
But he supposed that the apparent death of your best friend did that to a person. John probably couldn’t cope with the traces Sherlock left all over the flat. John was an emotional person, wore his heart on his sleeve, so vulnerable, so open to the persons around him to grab it, twist it, cut it and then let it bleed. "Just like you did!" His mind supplied helpfully and a new wave of guilt and sorrow washed over him leaving him rooted to the spot.

What was he doing? 

Coming here, in the middle of the night , unannounced, after having a nightmare, like a freaking child, when he knew how much pain it would cause John? And what would he even say?- “Oh well hello John I know that you have told me to stay away from you, but could you, perhaps let me touch you so my stupid brain can calm down and finally understand that you are not dead? Thank you!”?-

It was bloody ridiculous! Crazy, horrible, dreadful idea!

But he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that he had to see John, had to make sure he was alright, sleeping in his bed. Stupid brain! 

He stopped in front of the unmarked door, having already made up his mind. It was the best option he had really. 

He picked the lock. 

He felt guilt prickle beneath his skin, a mental image of John’s hard glare staring him down. He gritted his teeth and pushed forward. He would be quick, just a small glance, a fleeting touch and he would be gone. He wouldn’t wake John up, he wouldn’t hurt him any further and, after this night, he would disappear out of his life for good. John didn’t need such a sorry excuse of a friend anyway. 

Sherlock did his best to ignore the odd pressure behind his eyes and the way his throat tightened, chocking him minutely. 

John’s flat was dreadfully ordinary. Living room, small kitchen, bathroom…and bedroom. Nothing personal around the flat. Not even John’s favourite mug on the coffee table like it used to be back at home. No,not home, not anymore, not without John.

His entire body was trembling(half from cold, half from the damn anxiety that threatened to knock him over) as he slowly pushed the bedroom’s door open, thanking a God he didn’t believe in that it didn’t creak. 

The sight that met him made him want to fall to the floor, cry, throw up and turn around and run out of that damned flat all at the same time. 

John Watson was sleeping peacefully in his bed(Obviously, what did you expect, idiot?), the weak rays of light coming from the moon touching his smoothed out features in a gentle caress. His golden locks seemed now dusted with snowflakes. 

Sherlock swallowed the lump in his throat and took a step forward, not paying any mind to the storm of suppressed feelings and memories that seemed determined to take over his body. His legs felt like jelly underneath him and barely managed to carry him to the edge of the bed where he more or less collapsed on top of the warm covers. 

He felt John shift next to him and he froze, holding his breath. John mumbled something in his sleep and then fell silent, allowing Sherlock to finally breath properly. His heart was beating erratically as he extended his hand, fingertips hovering above John’s arm. His skin was radiating a heavenly warmth that made Sherlock inhale sharply as goosebumps rose all over his body. 

It was embarrassing, the effect that John had over his entire being(body and mind).

And then, he touched him and it all came crashing down on him. All the feelings he had locked up in the darkest portion of his mind, all the negative emotions, the sorrow, the anger, the down right agony he had blocked away broke free. There was a raging storm inside his head that he couldn’t escape. It messed up all of his carefully ordered information, destroyed entire rooms and made his ears ring. He felt like drowning, he felt like dying, like screaming and running away from the dark and dangerous territory that was his heart.

His chest was being pressed down, and torn apart with a million of sharp blades. He clenched his shirt in his fist and realized, mortified, that he was sobbing. Loudly.  
And John was looking at him, concern and shock written all over his face.

“Sherlock?”

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments, constructive criticism and kudos are welcome. Thank you so much guy!!!💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓


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